


The Cake is a Lie (well, a fib)

by Perpetual Motion (perpetfic)



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-13
Updated: 2012-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-14 04:32:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perpetfic/pseuds/Perpetual%20Motion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: Coulson's relationship with Clint's arms. Which, somehow, turned into a very short story about Clint making a cake. I don't know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cake is a Lie (well, a fib)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_wordbutler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_wordbutler/gifts).



Clint’s mixing something in a large, metal bowl when Phil lets himself into their quarters. Clint’s in a tank top and track pants, left arm curled around the bowl, right arm stirring whatever’s in it. His biceps look amazing, and Phil appreciates the view as he takes off his suit jacket and toes off his shoes.

“What’s that?” Phil asks as he walks over to Clint and looks in the bowl. 

“Buttercream frosting,” Clint replies. “I just put the cake in the oven.”

Phil gives Clint a quizzical look. “It’s not our anniversary, right?”

“Nope,” Clint says, grinning. 

“Not my birthday,” Phil says.

“Nope.” Clint’s grin gets wider. It forever amuses him that Phil can quote the handbook and the list of Federal holidays and the schedules of no less than five different ops but can’t for the life of him actually remember anniversaries or birthdays.

“Not your birthday?” Phil guesses, prepared to apologize and find a swanky place where he will pay his left arm to get them a table tonight.

“Nope.”

Phil narrows his eyes in thought and watches as Clint shifts his weight. Clint’s arms flex, and Phil decides to try the direct route. “How about,” he says, “we go into the bedroom, with that frosting, and I lick it off your arms, and after I’ve sucked you off, you tell me what I’ve forgotten?”

“Pre-emptive apology?” Clint asks. “I like.” He walks backwards, leading Phil with the gleam in his eyes. He was about to admit he just felt like baking, but he figures he can offer his own apology afterwards.


End file.
